Three Little Words
by Koohii Cafe
Summary: How important could three little words possibly be? Buffy Summers and Ash Williams are about to find out exactly how much three tiny words can do, and why it's always important to say them correctly.
1. Ren Faire Reject

**Title:** Three Little Words  
**Author:** Koohii Cafe  
**Rating:** T  
**Fandom:** BtVS/Evil Dead Trilogy  
**Disclaimer:** Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor Evil Dead are mine. ^^;  
**Summary:** _How important could three little words possibly be? Buffy Summers and Ash Williams are about to find out exactly how much three tiny words can do, and why it's always important to say them correctly._  
**Author's notes:** Comics? What comics? . This is set post season 7 for Buffy, and just as Ash tries to go home at the end of AOD.

* * *

Ren Faire Reject

* * *

"Oof!"

Buffy Summers went down with a rather undignified squawk as something large, heavy, and vaguely man-shaped hit her like a ton of bricks, stake flying from her hand as her back hit the ground beneath her, her head following with a sharp crack. The vampire she'd been about to dust froze, staring in shock for a second, before taking off. Smart vampire. A pained groan escaped the blonde. _Damn_, her head had hit the ground hard. At least there hadn't been a headstone behind her? Grimacing at the thought, she tried to raise her hand to rub at her head, and it took barely a millisecond to realize that she couldn't move; her arm, as well as the rest of her, was trapped under whatever it was that had hit her.

"Ooooow."

And it was _moving_. And groaning. Or rather, _he_ was groaning, because he was warm and heavy on top of her, and as her gaze ran down the both of them, her night vision crisp and clear, it was very obvious it was a he. A very handsome he. Dressed in something that looked like he'd just walked out of a renaissance faire.

Did they have renaissance faires in England?

"Did anyone get the number of that truck?" He was muttering under his breath, apparently unaware that he was laying on top of a _person_, his left hand rubbing the back of his head like she wanted to hers. She could see him frown as he shifted, his eyes squinting in the deep darkness of the cemetery, looking up, around, any way but down, and she'd had enough. Time to get his attention and get him off of her. He felt human, at least, so the slayer settled on a safe route, putting a good deal of strength into lifting her knee beneath him, dislodging it from where it had been trapped beneath his legs.

"No, but- not really with the caring. More with the wanting to get you _off_ me."

"Holy shit!" Quickly, hurriedly, and almost suspiciously fast, the man scrambled backwards and back onto solid ground. Buffy didn't think about it too much, instead pushing herself up with a wince, supporting herself on one elbow as she rubbed her head, her legs still sprawled out in front of her. The man crouched a foot or so away, staring at her warily, as if he was waiting for her to sprout a second head, and she rolled her eyes. _She_ wasn't the one who had come out of nowhere and let the stupid vampire get away.

"Take a picture," she frowned, and content that her head would be fine, she rose to her feet. "It'll last longer." He mirrored her actions, standing as well, and her gaze narrowed as she got a better look. He was wearing some kind of weird gauntlet on his right hand- it reminded her of that glove Faith's crazy Watcher had been after, kind of, but hadn't they destroyed that?- and was that a _chainsaw_ strapped to his back? Her second look at his clothing confirmed her earlier opinion. The gauntlet might have been part of the costume, but the chainsaw?

"Look who's talking," he shot back, and her gaze jerked back up to his face. "Seems to me like you're taking a pretty good stare yourself."

Definitely handsome, despite the wicked looking scars that decorated his face. Or maybe, in addition to. Somehow, she had the feeling that without them, he'd look a little too baby-faced, and there was something about him that screamed of masculine pride and virility.

"I'm trying to decide if you're actually pulling that look off, or if you just look like a renaissance reject. Gotta say though, the chainsaw? Kinda ruins the effect. I don't think they had those way back when."

"You'd be surprised." The words were muttered, and without the aid of her Slayer hearing, she wouldn't have been able to make them out. As it was, they just confused her, and she let them slide when he spoke up, louder this time. "What can I say, sweetheart? I make this look good."

"Oh please," Buffy rolled her eyes. Unconsciously, they had begun to circle each other, their movements somewhat predatory, ready to strike if the need to attack or defend came. She itched to have the stake she'd lost back in her hand, or to pull the Scythe from its holster on her back, but for the moment, she refrained. "Ego much?"

"'Sides," he continued, shrugging off her side comment with an easy smirk. "You're the one with a huge honkin' ax. Want to tell me why you're carting that thing around a graveyard?"

"Want to tell me why you've got a chainsaw, and why you knocked me down and let that- that mugger get away?" she countered just as easily, refusing to let him get the better footing. It seemed to work, as he looked torn suddenly, between glancing in the direction the vampire had taken off, and defending himself.

"Now you look here," he sputtered, apparently deciding on the latter. "I didn't do anything to you, I just- I just fell, and _happened_ to stumble into you."

"From where, the _sky_?" Her voice was dry and laced with disbelief; she still had no idea where he'd come from, only that he'd hit her with a pretty good amount of force. She didn't quite expect the sarcastic remark to make him sputter even more, and one eyebrow arched. What the hell was going on with this guy? "Okay, look. _Who_ are you? Where did you come from, and why are you dressed like that in the middle of a graveyard in the middle of the night? And don't give me some bullcrap story about renaissance faires, because I'm pretty sure they don't have those here, and even if they did, it wouldn't be in the cemetery this late. Because if you don't make with the 'splainy, I'm going to pull out my trusty little cell phone and call the cops. Or- whatever they call them this side of the Atlantic."

"Whoa, whoa," and he was putting both hands up, palms toward her, in the universal sign of surrender. Quickly, it seemed, he regained his composure, a more serious expression crossing his face as he watched her closely. "Chill out, lady. Name's Ash, and-"

"Buffy!" Turning at the sound of her name, she was just fast enough to catch the flash of light that accompanied the teleportation spell Willow had come to be fond of recently. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the guy- Ash- jump, but all her attention was for Willow at that moment; there was a serious business tone to her friend's voice, matching the look on the witch's face as she hurried over. "Is everything alright? I just felt a _huge_ surge of like, major mojo, right where I knew you were patrolling, and- it was bad stuff, Buffy. Like, evil, end of the world, almost Hellmouth-y bad. I was worried, since you were out here all alone, so I came as fast as I could. Did anything happen?"

"Whoa, Wills, slow down." And, crazy getup and chainsaw or not, she forgot about Ash as she focused on her friend. "Hellmouth-y bad? _Here_? I haven't seen anything like that, and I think I know what a Hellmouth opening looks like. Been there, cratered that. You sure it was here, and not somewhere else?"

"Well, not so much an actual Hellmouth as just- that was the level of evil it felt like. But it was definitely here. Giles is on the phone with the coven now, trying to see if they can find anything out."

"Alright. Head back to Slayer Central and rally the troops. If there was something that bad working magic, we need to be ready. It's not supposed to be apocalypse season yet, but some bad guys just don't respect the calendar." With that, she made little shooing motions at the redhead. They'd spoken in hushed enough terms the man shouldn't have been able to hear, but the sooner Willow vamoosed, the sooner she could get back to sorting out the stranger. Unfortunately, however, her friend seemed to have other ideas.

"Uh uh. No way, missy, am I leaving you alone with a big bad possibly on the horizon. Giles and the others can handle stuff at Headquarters. I'll be your witchy back up in the field, and-" It was at that moment that Willow finally turned, and there was a sudden squeak as she caught sight of Ash. "I- is that- a chainsaw?"

"Yeah. I was just-"

"Just about to explain where your little friend came from?" Buffy turned with a glare to look at him. Apparently he'd taken she and Willow's conversation as an invitation to come closer, and he now stood within hearing distance. There was a strange kind of set to his jaw that looked familiar, and it took the blonde a moment to realize why; it was the same look she'd seen in the mirror, when something bad had happened and she knew she had to step up to her responsibility, no matter how much she wanted to run. Her green eyes narrowed a little.

"Aren't you the nosy one? That's none of your business, so you can just back off. Willow was getting ready to leave." Her tone was steely, just daring him to say or do anything else.

"Buffy!" And then, glancing back at Willow, she was faced with her doom. Apparently the witch hadn't stayed startled by the chainsaw for long. "Resolve face, Buff. I'm _definitely_ not leaving you alone with a chainsaw wielding maniac."

"Hey!" There was a wounded look on the man's face, which both women promptly ignored. He wasn't finished though, the almost pout fading back into that serious expression. "Look, I don't know you two from Adam, and I should probably be running in the opposite direction as fast as my feet can carry me." He paused, muttering under his breath quietly enough that even Buffy could barely make out the "_I'm going to regret this,_" then sighed and pushed on. "You said bad magic. What _kind_ of bad magic?"

"And you care _why_?" She wasn't sure what it was, but Buffy felt snappier than usual. _Something_ was making her edgy and twitchy, and that was never a good sign. Without waiting for a response, she slid her eyes closed. There was something… her 'spidey' sense was tingling.

"Get down!"

Buffy reacted instinctively, grabbing Willow and yanking both of them down flat onto the ground. Two horrifically loud shots flew through the space their heads had just occupied and if it hadn't been for the definitively inhuman howl that sounded behind them, she would have glared at Ash. As it was, she moved, keeping one hand on her friend as she dragged them away from the source of that noise. Her other hand reached for the Scythe. Only when they'd gotten several feet away did she let go of Willow, whipping the familiar blade into her hands with the sing of metal and turning to look.

It was one of the more grotesque things Buffy had ever seen, and that was saying a lot, given how long she'd been slaying. It might have started out as human, but now its pale skin was sloughing from its body, rotting and decaying before her very eyes, looking like the most classic of Hollywood style zombies, with bloated features and flat white eyes. The stench though, and the gurgling as some kind of vile white fluid sprayed from the shotgun wound in its chest was unmistakably real. Beneath the gurgling there was another sound, a rasp almost like the thing was trying to speak, and it was slowly getting louder.

"Deadites." The sharp word came from Ash, and both women tore their eyes away from the monster to stare at him for a moment. The look on his face was grim, his eyes harsh and angry as he popped open a sawed off shotgun Buffy hadn't even noticed before, stuffing home two new rounds.

"Dea-wha?" she echoed, turning to stare at the thing once more. Behind her, she could hear Willow beginning to chant softly- hopefully some kind of spell to either protect them or kill the creature. Its 'voice' was getting louder, although it was impossible still to make out the words, and it took a halted step toward them.

"Kandarian demons that possess people." An audible click followed the statement as he snapped the shotgun shut, and this time Buffy _did_ glare at him.

"You mean there's a _person_ in there? They're possessed and you just _shot_ them?" Her voice was incredulous as she stared in disbelief at first the creature, then the man.

"Yup. And I'm going to shoot them again, or they're gunna kill us. Get outta the way."

"Oh hell no," Buffy growled in response, making a swipe for the gun. Amazingly, despite her speed, he jumped back and out of reach, keeping the stupid thing firmly in his grasp as he growled back. God, she hated guns. Angry, she trusted Willow to deal with the demon as she rounded completely on the man. "If there's a person in there, I'm not going to let you kill them!"

"Baby, any person in there is long gone by now. Once they're taken, they're history; dead, departed, never coming back. Now either take that nice shiny ax of yours and dismember the damn thing, or get the _hell_ out of my way."

"_Promisssssssed… Chosssssen… One…_"

'_Buffy,_' Willow's voice echoed through her mind.

'_Not now, Wills,_' she sent back quickly, her eyes trained on Ash. '_Do whatever you have to, to keep that thing at bay, but don't kill it._'

"So says you," Buffy shot back out loud, being sure to keep her body between his line of fire and the demon. "But I've seen possessed people come back. And I'm not letting you kill a human. Sorry, part of my job description."

"_Joooooin ussssss…_"

'_Buffy-_'

"You ain't never seen anything like this, I don't care what your job description is! Now back off so I can kill the damn thing!"

"_We're gonna get you~ we're gonna get you~_"

'_Buffy!_'

"_What_, Will-" Frustrated, she turned quickly to look at her friend. "Oh…" What she found was a shimmering yellow barrier that had surrounded the three of them; outside the barrier what had originally been a single demon had become more than she could count at first glance. It was only Willow's constant chant that kept the barrier up and the demons held back. Behind her, Ash huffed.

"For God's sake… I _toldja_."

"So. Not. Helping." Buffy glared, thoroughly irked by the little smirk he gave her in return. She hefted the Scythe somewhat nervously as she turned to take in the demons that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Had there even _been_ this many people nearby _to_ possess?

"Graveyard," Ash supplied, and if he didn't stop smirking like the cat that ate the canary, she was going to hit him, demons or no. "Which, probably means they're not possessed _people_, just possessed dead bodies. So _now_ can I shoot 'em?"

Yup. She was going to hit him. As soon as they got out of this mess. Because, at this point, she was pretty sure it was a 'they' kind of situation. Smug bastard or not, if she and Willow got out, she couldn't just _leave_ the guy there.

"Willow, can you teleport us out of here if we keep these things off you?"

"_Teleport_? Hold on just one minute, sister-"

"You. Shut up." The wounded look he gave her tugged the corner of her lips up into a smirk, then she was all eyes on Willow, who nodded sharply as she continued to chant. Buffy nodded back, turning to look at Ash. "Alright, here's the plan, and don't even think about arguing with me. On the count of three, my friend's going to drop that shield. Do anything you have to in order to keep these things from getting to her; she's our ticket out. If they get to her, we're toast."

"And what about the Deadites? You gonna to just let them run free?" He met her gaze head on, an eyebrow cocked as he jerked his head at the demons on the other side of the barrier. She had to give him points for that much at least. "They'll kill anyone they get their bony little hands on, and turn them into more Deadites."

"Got it covered. We'll send in a team once we get out of here, to take care of these things." When he frowned, but didn't argue further, Buffy slipped into a defensive stance, adjusting her grip on the Scythe. "On the count of three, Wills. One… Two… Three!"

The barrier went down and chaos ensued.


	2. Not the Middle Ages

**Title:** Three Little Words  
**Author:** Koohii Cafe  
**Rating:** FR15  
**Fandom:** BtVS/Evil Dead Trilogy  
**Disclaimer:** Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor Evil Dead are mine. ^^;  
**Summary:** _How important could three little words possibly be? Buffy Summers and Ash Williams are about to find out exactly how much three tiny words can do, and why it's always important to say them correctly._  
**Author's notes:** Comics? What comics? . This is set post season 7 for Buffy, and just as Ash tries to go home at the end of AOD.

* * *

Not the Middle Ages

* * *

The Scythe sang, the Remington rang, and the demons ran headfirst toward the trio once the shield fell. Buffy and Ash placed Willow firmly between them as they began to fight, remaining on the defensive to ensure that none of the creatures could get to the witch, who had already begun her next spell. For several long minutes, there was nothing but the fight for the two of them, and the clash of bones against blades; somehow the blonde wasn't surprised when, early on, she heard the chainsaw rev. She didn't have much of a chance to look, though. The demons were numerous, and she found out fairly quickly that they were a pain in the butt to take down. Thankfully it had only taken her a minute or so to remember the comment Ash had made about dismemberment, and from that point on she had made a point of slicing off heads, hands, and legs whenever she could. Of course, the fact that these things were the _goriest_ things she'd ever had the displeasure of slaying made it all a thousand times worse, but she pushed on.

It was weird. She'd never laid eyes on Ash before that night, and she honestly wasn't entirely all that fond of the man from what she'd seen so far; he was a loud mouthed smug bastard with an ego the size of Mount Rushmore. Fighting with him though- it reminded her of fighting with Angel or Faith, or, as much as the thought sent a twinge of pain through her heart, Spike. Though not quite as smooth as it would have been with the other Slayer, or either of the vampires, they worked well together. Instinctively they covered where the other needed while keeping out of each others' way, creating a deadly dance that tore through the demons, leaving the chanting witch in the center of it all, completely untouched. Blades swung and that stupid gun blasted, but there was never a danger that they would hurt the other. Buffy didn't understand it, but in the heat of battle, she didn't need to. All she knew was that it _worked_.

She was in the middle of a swing when Willow shouted a heads-up and the tingle of magic washed over her. The completion of the swing found her- not slicing through the arm of a demon, as she'd started to- stumbling forward into the familiar halls of the new Watcher Council HQ. The only warning she had that this wasn't a good sign was her best friend's squeak before a heavy form slammed into her, and for the second time that night she was thrown to the ground. This time, when her head cracked against the cool marble floor, she barely registered that it was Ash who'd hit her (again) before she groaned and darkness took her.

* * *

Buffy woke to the sounds of a heated argument going on above her and groaned. Her head was throbbing, the world spinning above her as her eyes blinked open and a sharp stabbingly bright light penetrated her skull. The fact that she could hear what sounded like Faith and some guy's voice she didn't recognize shouting at each other wasn't helping. Letting out another groan, the blonde squeezed her eyes closed quickly again to protect her vision, and rolled over to block out the light; it was almost a fatal mistake, the sudden motion sending a wave of nausea through her, and it took every ounce of her self control to keep from heaving over the side of the bed she was on. The heavy male boots that filled her vision scattered back, as if afraid she'd do exactly that, and she felt the mattress depress as someone sat down behind her. The small hand that ran soothingly on her back meant it was probably Willow or Dawn.

"Look, I don't know what kind of operation you morons are running here, but you gotta get that girl to a hospital. Can't you see she's obviously hurt?" The guy's voice, and the owner of those boots from how close he sounded. She still couldn't place him, but the mention of a hospital made it tempting to stop holding back and let loose on his feet.

"Yeah, no thanks to you, asshole." Ahh, there was her knight in shining- well, leather. Thank god for Faith. "You don't know shit about B; she'd skin alive anyone who tried to take her to the hospital for something as little as a concussion." There was a pause, then, "Sorry Red, no offense."

"None taken," her friend answered, and yup. Willow was the one behind her.

"As little as a- are you people _crazy_? What if she needs help? What if it's not a concussion? This isn't the damn middle ages! Now get off your collective asses and get going, or god help me, I'll take her myself!" Those boots were coming closer again, damnit. If he touched her, she was going to hurl. On purpose. Go to the hospital her ass- she'd show him. Thankfully, before it came to that, there was a swift movement and a pair of heels came between she and him, and he stumbled back.

"Touch my sister and _die_."

Go Dawnie. Buffy'd had about enough though. She was a Slayer. There was no way some stupid concussion was getting the best of her. She'd be healed soon enough. Taking a moment to be sure she wouldn't get sick against her will, the blonde slowly pushed herself up, Willow's hands helping her a little along the way. Sure she could've done it by herself, but she wasn't _that_ prideful. Most of the time.

"Turn off the lights," she muttered, keeping her eyes closed; even through her lids she could feel the brightness. A skittering of footsteps sounded and a moment later there was blessed darkness. Only then did she open her eyes. There was a dim light shining into her bedroom- how on earth had they gotten into her bedroom?- and it was just enough to see by, yet not enough to contribute to her throbbing headache. The whole gang was present almost; Willow sitting beside her rubbing her back, Faith standing at the end of the bed, Giles at the door watching (guarding, it looked like?), and her 'little' sister stood before her, between she and a man who looked vaguely familiar. It took a moment of staring at his old timey clothes, the distinct scars on his face, and then, as her gaze ran over the chainsaw and shotgun poking over his shoulder, she remembered.

Right. She'd been about to stake a vampire when the big lug had hit her. The initial confrontation had been followed by cracks about his sense of fashion, Willow popping in, and zombie demons from Canada coming from out of nowhere, and when they'd managed to escape… Her eyes narrowed as she glared balefully at him.

"_You_. You _tackled_ me! Again!"

"Nuh uh! I'm not takin' the fall for this one, cupcake!" Ash's back straightened, his mouth twisted into a scowl as he returned her glare full force. "It was your little witchy friend there who did it. I was in the middle of takin' out a Deadite when she magic-mojo'd us to only god knows where. Kinda hard to stop in the middle of a swing, so ex_cuse_ me! 'Sides, you almost took my head off with that pretty little ax of yours."

"First off, it's a _Scythe_, not an ax. Secondly-"

"Oh, well that makes all the difference. You almost took my head off with a _scythe_, not an _ax_."

"_Secondly_-" she pressed on, ignoring his protest as if he hadn't said a word, "you forgot the '_again_' part of that. What's your excuse for the _first_ time you bowled me over?"

"I can't control where that damn book sends me flying!" Ash sighed, running a hand down his face in apparent frustration, and then seemed to steel himself. "You wanna know why I'm wearing these clothes, why I showed up in a freaking graveyard in the middle of the night like that? Well here's the plain, honest truth; I just time traveled from the year thirteen freakin' hundred, where I had to stop an army of darkness from takin' over the world. 'Why Ash, you're so hip and modern for someone from medieval times,' you say. Yeah, that's because I'm not _from_ there, not originally. I'm just a guy who took his girlfriend out to a cabin in the woods to have a good time, and ended up losin' her to the damn Deadites because some nutty professor wanted to research the Necronomicon Ex-whatever and taped himself reading a buncha words that bring the dead back to life. Add in a ritual to banish the evil, one portal that drags ya to the past whether you like it or not, and some stupid prophecy about the Promised One, Chosen One, something like that, and you've got what happened to me."

"Chosen-"

"- One?" Turning her head quickly to exchange a glance with Faith- not the best idea she'd ever had, if the way her head and stomach protested at the motion was any indication- Buffy felt the urge to bang her head against the wall beside her. Probably another bad idea, which she wisely refrained from, instead glancing around- _slowly_ this time- to see the looks her friends were giving Ash. Most of them were a cross between suspicion, disbelief, and worry. Prophecies about the 'Chosen One' didn't usually end well in their experience. Giles, however…

"Dear God, did you say the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis?" There it was, the infamous whipping off of the glasses and rubbing them with a handkerchief. That could mean one of two things; either they were doing something he just didn't want to see- or it was something serious. Possibly both, but Buffy was betting on the latter.

"Yeah, that's it. Book of the dead, bound in human flesh, inked in blood, yadda, yadda, yadda." It was Ash's turn to look suspicious, eying the older man warily. "What's it to you?"

The glasses returned to the Watcher's face, and the eyes behind them were dark, serious, and somewhat sad. His face bore an expression Buffy hadn't seen since the day he'd shown up on her doorstep in Sunnydale, after the Council had fallen. "The professor you mentioned- Raymond Knowby, correct? I believe his home was in Tennessee."

"Okay, just _how_ do you know that?" There was a tension beginning to form in Ash's shoulders, his expression growing more and more distrustful as he stared at Giles.

"Dr. Knowby was- an associate of the Council," Giles began, but his words seemed more for Buffy and the others than for the stranger in their midst, his gaze distant, "and a personal friend of my father's. He was something of an expert in Sumerian language and culture; when my father was tasked with the translation and comprehension of a very old, very powerful book, Raymond was the one he turned to for aid. It was a tragic mistake, and- it cost Dr. Knowby his life."

"_Wait_ a minute- you _knew_ that crazy bastard?" It was like a switch had been thrown in the new guy; he'd gone from wary and suspicious to angry and enraged at warp speed. His eyes flashed as he straightened to his full height- making the blonde realize belatedly just _how_ tall the man was, good god was he tall- and snapped at Giles. "Do you have _any idea_ what he did? What he caused! I had to-"

He cut off abruptly, and if she hadn't been staring at him, she would have missed the flash of something else in his eyes, something that hid beneath the rage and the anger. It was deep, dark, and torn, and it was gone almost immediately.

"You will hold your tongue," Giles snarled in response, his own gaze furious, his voice sharp. Ash had a few inches on him, but it didn't matter- in that moment it wasn't Rupert Giles who glared up at Ash, but a much younger, much angrier Ripper. Whoever this Professor Nubby guy had been, he'd been important to Giles. "Raymond Knowby gave his life and the lives of his family to protect this world from a grave demon threat before you had even been conceived. If you _dare_ insult him, I will make sure that you dearly regret it."

"No way, buddy. Considering the nutty professor's daughter showed up at his cabin and tried to blame _me_ for killin' him? There's no way the old coot died that long ago!"

"His daughter?" Something froze in Giles, and it was as if something broke as well. There was a bloated, pregnant pause as something akin to anguish passed over his face, and then disbelief took him over as he stared at the younger man. "Annie…"

"Yeah, that's her." That seemed to steal the anger from Ash as well, regret filtering across his features. His tone was steady, however, when he continued. "Came lookin' for her parents. Found me instead. Took some convincing to make her realize it hadn't been me that did it, but she came through in the end. She's the one who recited the spell to seal away the evil once and for all, right before she died."

For a long moment, there was silence, the two men sharing an unspoken mourning for whoever 'Annie' had been. It made no sense, if Giles was right about when the professor had died, but Buffy was having a hard time caring right at that moment. Giles had ended up on the opposite side of the bed as Ash during the altercation, having abandoned his post by the door, which meant the two had had their argument right over her still aching head. Any silence, after their raised voices, was a blessing.

Unfortunately for her, it wasn't going to last.

"Okay, correct me if I'm wrong, but- something's fishy about this whole thing." Dawn finally spoke up again, her gaze alternating between Giles and Ash from where she still stood before Buffy. "As in, your story isn't lining up to reality. If Giles says this professor guy died ages ago, I'm gonna have to believe him over, you know. A chainsaw wielding maniac."

"I am _not_ a maniac!" There was that same wounded look from before, back in the graveyard. It was almost a full blown pout, and had she been in a better mood, she probably would have laughed. "Buzz here just comes in handy for killing Deadites. Couple'a swings from this trusty baby, arms, legs, head, and it's bye-bye boneheads!" The chainsaw was in his hands now, and he was just reaching for the ripcord, as if to illustrate his point, when Buffy pinned him with a dark look.

"Rev that thing and I will make you wish you'd never been born," she warned, her voice low. He scowled, but his hand dropped away from the cord and, with a little fiddling, had the thing on his back once more. That was enough for her.

"Dawnie's right," Willow pointed out after a moment. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm really glad you helped me and Buffy out in the graveyard, but-" She gave a helpless shrug, and Ash groaned.

"I'm tellin' ya, I was _there_. When Annie showed up, she was looking for her parents- why would she be looking for someone who'd been dead for years? Besides, she looked like she was around my age. If the prof died before I was born, then how'd he have a daughter that young?"

"Annie Knowby," Giles' voice was soft, laden with a deep sorrow, "died in 1981, in the same place her father unleashed the terrors of the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis."

"Well, yeah, that's what I just said, didn't I." Several quick looks were exchanged between the rest of the room, and they didn't go unnoticed by Ash. Clearly confused, he pressed on. "What? It is!"

"Buddy." It was Faith who broke the news, her tone incredulous as she stared at him. "The year's 2004."

"Two thousand-" There was a frozen look in his eyes, then his head began to slowly shake side to side. "_No_… No, no, no_nono__**nono**_!"

"It would seem," Giles stated calmly, even as Ash backed up a step, complete denial written in his expression, "that you have returned from the past- belatedly."

"It's- it's that damn book!" He'd backed up to the nearby wall, leaning against it as he held his head in his left hand, and a groan escaped him. "It was supposed to send me _home_, not- not twenty years into the future! I just wanted to get back- to my job, to school, to my _life_!"

"It could be that that is not possible. Such magicks as time travel are not simple, nor easy, and often demand the use of very black spells. The Council is not devoid of powerful witches, as you have seen already, but- it may not be within our power to return you to your time."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm just _stranded_ here?" His voice was getting higher and louder with each protest, and Buffy was beginning to wish Dawn had just kept her 'fishy' comment to herself, or that Faith had waited before blurting out the date, even if it would only have delayed the inevitable shouting. As it was, her head was beginning to pound even more than before-

"Okay, out." Willow beat her to the punch, and Buffy's jaw swung shut from where she'd been about to say something along those lines. The redhead gave her shoulder a little squeeze, followed by a smile, before she turned her infamous 'Resolve Face' to the rest of the room. "Buffy needs to rest, and that's not going to happen if we're sitting in her bedroom arguing about this whole thing. Faith, go check on Xander and the team he took to the graveyard. See if they need back up, or if they got those things taken care of. Dawn, do me a favor and whip up some herbal tea for Buffy- you know which kind I mean. Giles-"

"I will take our 'guest' to the visitors' quarters," he interrupted her calmly, looking somewhat bemused at her sudden take charge attitude. "I will learn what I can of the spell that brought him here before I consult with the coven."

"I was itchin' for a good fight anyway," Faith replied with a smirk. "You take care of B. Make sure she doesn't go chargin' off before she's ready." The comment earned her a scowl from Buffy, to which she merely laughed. Then she turned and left them with one more parting shot before disappearing out the door and down the stairs, "Let's just hope they left me a couple to slay."

"And I totally have the tea under control." There was a twinkle in her sister's eye that Buffy did _not_ like, but before she could protest, Dawn had disappeared out the door after Faith, leaving only Willow, Giles, and Ash in the room with her. The latter was staring at the way the entire group had been so easily disassembled.

"What the- did she just- how-"

"_Willow_," Buffy turned to her friend, ignoring the confused stuttering and narrowing her gaze at the witch. "That 'herbal tea' better not be what I think you just did."

"Come along," Giles told Ash evenly, starting for the door himself. "Hopefully we will be able to return you to your time, but until we know more, you will need a place to stay. Follow me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," her friend answered with a smirk that meant, damn it, her suspicions were right. Stupid friends who thought they knew best- there was no way she was drinking anything Dawn brought up. "Just a new recipe I found. It'll help with the headache."

"But-"

"'Help.' Right. As in, 'help me to sleep so I don't _feel_ the headache?'"

"Right this way."

"It'll help with the nausea too! Unless you _want_ to almost get sick every time you move?"

"-what about-?"

"No fair using perfectly reasonable logic against me!"

"Do sleep well, Buffy."

"She will. Bye Giles!"

"She's-"

Dawn slipped into the room with a teacup in hand right as Giles shut the door behind he and their confused and protesting guest, sealing her fate.


	3. Clatoo Verata Necktie?

**Title:** Three Little Words  
**Author:** Koohii Cafe  
**Rating:** T  
**Fandom:** BtVS/Evil Dead Trilogy  
**Disclaimer:** Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor Evil Dead are mine. ^^;  
**Summary:** _How important could three little words possibly be? Buffy Summers and Ash Williams are about to find out exactly how much three tiny words can do, and why it's always important to say them correctly._  
**Author's notes:** Comics? What comics? . This is set post season 7 for Buffy, and just as Ash tries to go home at the end of AOD.

* * *

Clatoo Verata… Necktie?

* * *

My name is Ash, Ash Williams. Yeah, yeah, you've never heard of me, I know, so what do you care. I'm the 'Promised One,' and you should care because I've been fighting the undead for a couple hundred years. Fighting them, and winning, and saving this god forsaken dustball of a planet from sheer unholy hell. So what if, for me, it's only been a couple weeks? I've fought these damn things all the way from 1981, to 1300, and back to 2004. Which is where I'm trapped now, all because of a book called the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis.

Stop me if you've heard this story before; boy and his friends go to a cabin in Tennessee for a little getaway, boy's friend plays a taped reading of the worst book ever written, the recording brings a buncha demons back to life. Through the course of a single night, this boy loses everything; his friends, his sister, his girlfriend- all possessed by the demons. Add insult to injury- or should that be the other way around?- he even loses his right hand to the damn demons. Then, take it one step further- when the demons finally get sealed away, the boy gets dragged along, back to the past, where they expect him to be some kinda savior who'll defeat the demons, the Deadites. He has to go after that damned book to get home, and then he gets attached- there's a girl, and she makes him want to do the brave thing. The stupid thing, if you ask me. She gets taken, he mans up and kicks Deadite ass, saves the girl, and heads home.

Except, this isn't home. I was supposed to come back to the time I left, 1981. Hell, I would have even taken a little earlier. Maybe I could'a saved myself the trouble of ever going to Tennessee. Yeah, that would'a been nice. Convinced everyone that the cabin was bad news, stayed in Michigan, and had my life before me again. It didn't work that way, though. Instead, I ended up twenty-three years too late. I'm not even in America, if you can believe it. Guess that whole portal thing that ripped me back to Kandar was a one way deal.

So where am I? Some place in London, England called the Watcher's Council. I kind of knocked over this girl when the book dropped me off here, pretty little blonde thing. Ended up having to save her and her witch friend from the Deadites the book brought back along with me- damn thing never could leave well enough alone. It just _had_ to strand me in the wrong time with its damn minions waitin' for me. Anyway, the witch did some magic trick that got us out of there and back to safety. Of course, she did it in the middle of the fight, and let me tell ya, when you're swinging around a chainsaw and then suddenly your enemy's gone and you're in a different place completely, it's hard to stop.

So sue me. I hit her again. It's not like I meant to or anything, she was just there, and I couldn't get out of the way. In my defense, she hit me too. Had a huge ax- wait, sorry, _scythe_- in her hands too. I'm lucky she didn't hit anything vital. On me, that is. She uh. Kinda fell and smacked her head on the ground. And that's when the weird crap starts.

Yup. You heard right. _That's_ when the weird starts. Not before, not in the cabin, not in the middle ages. When the tiny blonde chick who probably doesn't weigh one hundred pounds soaking wet enters the story.

So, I said I was in England, right? Well, I am. Except, this girl and her friend are as American as I am. And they've got this _huge_ estate where the witch took us to. Marble floors, marble pillars, fancy gold paint, the works. And there's people wandering around everywhere, mostly girls. _Young_ girls. As in, most of 'em looked like teenagers, junior high, high school age, and they're from all over the world. Shoulda' seen the way they freaked when we showed up and the blonde got knocked out. You'd think she was some kinda god or something. They almost mobbed me before the redhead- the witch- told them it wasn't my fault. Then, a couple more people showed up. Hot brunette dame all in leather, tall guy with an eye-patch, some geeky tag-a-long kid, a bookish looking girl, and some stuffy older man done up in tweed. Except for the older guy, they were all American too, and the girls in the place acted like they were definitely in charge.

A whole buncha things happened at once. The redhead told them what happened in the graveyard I got dropped in, and the guy with the eye-patch went out to take care of the Deadites. Said he was taking some kind of team, so I made sure he knew how to destroy the damn things. Maybe I should'a gone with him, but I couldn't. I felt responsible for the blonde. After all, I was the one who knocked her out. I wanted to make sure she got taken care of. So he went off to clean up my mess with the book, and I followed the conga line up to what turned out to be the girl's bedroom, her leather wearing friend carrying her. I'd'a carried her myself if it hadn't started while I was talking to Patches. Common decency, you know.

In her bedroom, they did some kind of magic mojo on her to find out what was wrong. Yeah, I know, it sounds crazy, using 'magic,' instead of taking her to the hospital. I would've expected that back in Kandar, not here. Anyway, they said it was a concussion, and sent geek-boy off to make some mamby-pamby herbal cure. And that's when I put my foot in it.

See, I have this bad habit of actually caring. You'd think I'd learned, after watching so many people die since that damn recording started it all, but what can I say. I'm a slow learner sometimes. I told them where they could stick their 'herbal remedy' and that they needed to take the girl to the hospital. It just went downhill from there. She woke up, almost puked all over my boots, and we got in this big long fight about everything. I told 'em the truth about what happened, and they wouldn't believe me. Then I found out the kicker.

Two thousand and freakin' four. That's the year right now. Yeah, yeah, I already said that already, get over it. I'm still processing the fact that I'm stuck _twenty-three years_ in the future. Leave me alone. You'd be pretty damn shell shocked too, if you were sittin' in my shoes right now. Think you coulda handled it any better? Huh? Think you'd be all calm and tellin' the whole story without repeating a few things here and there?

That's what I thought.

Anyway. This is about the part of the story where I am now. Everyone got kicked out of the blonde's- Buffy's her name, if you were wondering- room by the redhead, Willow, so they could drug her back to sleep. I'm tellin' ya, it's crazy here. The older British guy, goes by the name of Giles, lead me down here to 'visitors' quarters. I haven't decided if that's a nice way of calling them prison rooms, or not. Just not sure. If they are, it's a nice prison at least, very upscale. And-

Oh hey, he's talking.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need some details from you, Mr…" He trailed off, unsure. Oh yeah, I hadn't given them my last name yet, had I. I frowned, but went ahead and gave him his answer.

"Ash Williams. Just call me Ash."

"Mr. Williams." Told ya he was stuffy. "If we are to discern whether or not it is possible to return you to your time, I need to know as much as you can tell me about the spell that brought you here."

"Right." And that- could be a problem. This was the part that always got me. My gaze darted away from my 'host' for a moment as I scratched the back of my neck with my good hand, and forced a laugh. "Spell. Right. Gotcha. I uh- it wasn't so much a _spell_ as it was the old Wiseman brewing up a potion from the book. All I had to do was drink a couple drops, say a couple words, and bam. I'd be back home. That's the way it was _supposed_ to work, at least. Obviously," and I gestured with my metal hand to the room, to him, to all of it, "something went kablooey."

"A potion, you say. And it was written of within the Necronomicon?" He was doing that glasses thing again- yankin' them off and cleaning them. He'd done it before, too, when he first asked me about the book. Honestly, maybe I should've been more wary about this guy, but- it was hard. I'd seen the look on his face when he talked about Annie Knowby. Even if I hadn't known the girl long, she'd struck me as a good kind of girl. I mean, she was the whole reason I'd lived through all of this. She died by my hand (no matter whether or not the damn thing had been attached to me at the time) and still saved the day, saved _me_, by reading off those rituals. And she'd obviously meant something to him.

Also, in a way, he reminded me a bit of the Wiseman.

"Yeah. I don't know the name or anything, but I know it came from the book." Fat lotta help I was.

"What were the words you were required to recite?"

And this was where I was screwed. It always came back to those words, didn't it? I groaned and resisted the urge to bang my head against the nearest solid object, settling instead on rubbing my good hand down my face with my eyes closed.

"Don't ask me that. _Any_thing but that." My hand stayed on my face for a moment, and when he didn't respond, I opened one eye to look through my fingers at him. The look on his face was confused, and a little disapproving. Great. Just what I needed. Sigh. Well, here it went.

"Clatoo Verata…" That part, at least, I knew. It was just- Maybe if I said it real fast? Yeah, like that had worked before. "_necktie_."

"'_Necktie_?'"

"S- something like that." It was like staring at ol' Spinach Chin when I brought back the book the first time. That _look_ that said I'd screwed up. Well, maybe I had, but I wasn't gunna take it from this guy. "Now you cut that out, right now. S'not my fault I can't remember the stupid words- sounds like mumbo jumbo! Why couldn't it have been something easy, like- abra cadabra! _That_ I coulda remembered. But _nooooo_, it had to be- Necklace! Neckline! Neckpiece!"

"Nikto!"

"Yeah! That's-" Not Giles. Who the hell-

"Did Buffy get her tea, Giles? I sent Dawn up with it, but I just wanted to make sure. She's, you know, kinda important, and she looked really out of it up there. Not that anyone could really hurt the Buffster, cause she's all tough and stuff. That's our Buffy, tough as nails! And-"

"_Do_ shut up, Andrew."

Ahhh, the geeky kid I'd seen earlier. I turned to look at the door, where he was standing, and he had this kinda creepy grin on his face. He was bouncing in place, like he was excited over _something_, and considering he'd just been talking about his supposed friend being sick- waitaminute…

"How'd you know that word?" There was eying going on, and when I say 'eying,' I mean my suspicious eyes running over this kid who knew a magic word that came from the Necronomicon. How the hell did he-

"Klaatu Barada Nikto!" he pronounced, _way_ too happy about the words, and my eyes narrowed. He didn't seem to really care that I was glaring a hole through him though, cause he just went on like he hadn't even noticed, giddy as a teenage girl on prom night. "I mean, are you kidding me? That's, like, _classic_ science fiction!" He paused, staring at me like he expected me to know what the hell he was talking about. When I just stared back, he sighed.

"1951, _The Day The Earth Stood Still_. Klaatu and his robot Gort come to Earth to deliver a grave warning; If the people of Earth don't back down on the uber bad atomic power they've been building, then the aliens will destroy them. And- well, the military doesn't take it too well, and they shoot Klaatu! And then, in order to stop Gort from doing bad things since Klaatu died, Helen- that's the girl Klaatu falls in love with- has to tell him '_Klaatu! Barada! Nikto!_'"

"You've-" I just- stared. Those damn words, those three little words that had ruined everything- they'd been in some old sci-fi flick?

It was one of those moments where you either laughed, or you broke down. I'm just not the kinda guy who'll break down, so guess what I did. Yup, got it in one. I laughed my ass off. I don't think Giles or the kid understood exactly what was so funny, and frankly, I didn't give a damn. All this time, all that trouble with a goddamn army of skeletons, facing off against some freaky Deadite version of myself… It was so down right terrible it was hysterical. I was laughing so hard, I ended up bent over, speaking between the snickers that I let loose.

"Y- you mean to tell me- all I had to do- was watch some- cheesy space alien movie- from the fifties?" They were looking at me like I was crazy, and maybe I was. But hey, with all I've been through? I earned the right to be a little nutso. Better than cryin'.

"G- Giles? Is he, like- broken?" Geek Boy was backing up a step from the doorway, like he was afraid I was going do something. Had he missed the part where I told them I was the good guy? Oh yeah, Willow _had_ sent him off before that, hadn't she? Whatever. I wasn't gonna hurt him, and I was pretty sure the older guy knew it at least.

"Quite possibly," he muttered to himself, though I caught it anyway. One thing I'd found, since discovering this whole Promised/Chosen/Guy-From-The-Sky thing, was that I could hear a little better than I could before. I think I'm faster too, better reflexes, but don't quote me on that one. It'd be hard to judge anyway- I was already pretty awesome _before_ all this Deadite crap happened. Anyway, my awe-inspiring self aside, he was talking again, louder this time. "So the words you had to recite. They were-"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember 'em now. Clatoo Verata Nicto." I'd stopped laughing by that point, and I huffed. He frowned in response.

"Did you say them correctly when you drank the potion?"

Told ya he was just like the Wiseman.

"Now you look here! Maybe I didn't say every single freakin' little syllable, like Mr. Sci-Fi-Geek-On-Wheels over there, but yeah I said 'em!" Stupid book. "Basically…" Stupid words. This was _not_ my fault. Damn it.

"The Necronomicon," he groaned, pulling off his glasses once more, this time to rub at his eyes, "is capable of very powerful magicks, and it is most fickle. Even the _slightest_ mispronunciation of its spells could mean disaster." He looked tired all the sudden. Yeah, well, I was tired too. So damn tired of that book, and everything that went with it. "I will need to look through what the Council salvaged of it, after it was recovered from Dr. Knowby's cabin, to see if I can learn more of the spell that brought you here. Andrew will-"

"_Recovered_?" He was joking, right? He had to be kidding. That, or I'd misheard him. "Are you people _stupid_?"

"Would you have rather it was left in the cabin for any fool to find and read from?"

"I _burned_ that thing for a reason!" I growled back, but he was already moving toward the door.

"Andrew will see that you're taken care of, Mr. Williams." Then he was gone, and the kid was staring at me like I would eat him alive now that we were alone. Just- dandy.

"C- c- can I, uh. Get you anything? Mr. Chainsaw?" Skittish, like he'd run if I so much as looked at him twice. For a moment, I considered half lunging at him, just to see what he'd do, but if I was gonna be at the mercy of these people for awhile, it was probably better to be nice. See, I not an idiot- I can think long term when I have to!

"Just call me Ash, kid," I told him, even as I started to work on the harness strapped across my chest. Maybe if I put down the weaponry, he'd calm down. Not that either Buzz or my Remington were going far, but hey. I could compromise.

"If- only if you call me Andrew." Hey look, the kid had a backbone. "I'm not a kid, I'm an essential member of the Watcher's Council. And- and I have very important duties here. The Slayers look up to me."

"Slayers, huh." It wasn't the first time I'd heard that word. I half remembered Buffy using the word back before the Deadites showed up, but I had no clue what it meant. Some kind of code name? But they called themselves some kind of Council? "Why don't you tell me what a Slayer is, and we'll go from there?"

Something lit in his eyes- fire, passion, excitement, and suddenly I wondered if that had been the best question to ask as he all but bounced before me. When he started speaking… I knew I was in for it.

"Dear, _dear_ Ash. Let me explain to you the tale of the ultimate champion for the light of this world; the heroic and noble Slayer of the vamp_yres_."


	4. Mr BadPickUpLine

**Title:** Three Little Words  
**Author:** Koohii Cafe  
**Rating:** T  
**Fandom:** BtVS/Evil Dead Trilogy  
**Disclaimer:** Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor Evil Dead are mine. ^^;  
**Summary:** _How important could three little words possibly be? Buffy Summers and Ash Williams are about to find out exactly how much three tiny words can do, and why it's always important to say them correctly._  
**Author's notes:** Comics? What comics? . This is set post season 7 for Buffy, and just as Ash tries to go home at the end of AOD.

* * *

Mr. Bad-Pick-Up-Line

* * *

Would you believe it took them three hours to rescue me? And when I say 'rescue,' I mean it in the literal sense. I sure learned one thing as I sat through the what felt more like a hokey parody of that old show- whass'it called again, Masterpiece Theater?- than any kind of actual explanation; I was never asking Andrew anything again. Ever. He was a good kid, I could tell, but good god when he got going… Yeah, yeah, I was kind of a nerd myself, back before everything happened, but I was never _that_ bad. Eventually, though, I guess someone finally thought to find out where the little munchkin had disappeared to, cause Willow stuck her head in the room, and I'll tell you what- that girl can apologize like a pro. Which she did, over and over again, before she dragged him out, leaving me to get a little peace and quiet.

After the day I'd had, I probably should have taken advantage of it. I mean, I had a pretty cushy set up in the visitors quarters, a couple'a rooms all connected, high stylin', and damn if the huge bed in the last room wasn't the softest thing I'd ever had the pleasure of laying on. It definitely beat what they'd had back in Kandar. I just wasn't in the mood for sitting back and doing nothing. Besides, despite the fact that it was the wee early hours of the morning here, I wasn't the least bit tired. Let me be the first to tell ya, time travel jet-lag is a bitch. So after she hauled the kid off and I felt like a reasonable amount of time had passed- well, okay, when I got bored, shut up- I got to exploring.

The rooms they'd stuck me in didn't seem too far off the beaten path. It only took me a minute or so to find the big hall Willow had magic'd us into earlier that night. It was a little less busy right then- most of the girls that had been milling around gone to bed, I guess. I still had a hard time believing that every single one of those chicks had been super powered so-called-Slayers, but that's what Andrew had claimed. Honestly, it made me a little sick to think that all those innocent girls were here to fight monsters and demons that went bump in the night, but- well, maybe it made a difference.

I'd tried to imagine how that first night in the cabin could have been different if Cheryl, or Linda, or even Shelly had had super powers. Would we have gotten away, somehow? Would they all still be alive, instead of twenty three years dead? Maybe I wouldn't've had to fight off my own sister, or hack up the girl I'd loved. The entire thought left a bitter taste in my mouth, so I just tried to shove it out of my head. There were better things to do than brood, like learn more about this place I'd be spending my time in until they got me home, because damn it they _were_ going to figure out how to send me home.

So empty, the hall felt even bigger than it had before, and cold and kinda dead, like it was just waiting to be breathed back to life. There was a single girl sitting at a desk- the night watch Slayer I guess- and she gave me a funny look, but didn't say anything. Guess someone musta told her there was a visitor, and that I wasn't a threat. Fine by me, if it meant I could look around uninterrupted. I waved at her and went about my business, if that's what you could call it.

There was a huge display that stretched across one wall of the hall, and it looked like a cross between a family tree and a timeline, except that all the pictures were of young women. A quick look told me that that was exactly what it was, in a way- the pictures started out as drawings that looked practically ancient, framed and moving through the years and becoming first paintings and portraits, then black and white photos, and finally colored photos. Beneath each picture there was a name, a birth date, a date in the middle, what I assumed was a death date, and sometimes a line about the girl. A quick bit of math made me grimace- most of those girls hadn't lived to see eighteen, and most of the death dates weren't more than a year, if that, after the middle date. God, this had been going on for- for longer than I could even imagine, and all these girls… every single one of them had died horrific deaths.

Every single one except- there was one picture that didn't have a death date, and another one that (if you can believe it) had two. And I'd seen both of those women today. Buffy and Faith, the injured blonde and the leather clad brunette. I stood in front of the pictures for a moment, just kinda looking at them, and had to snort at the line beneath Buffy's; '_Beloved Sister. Devoted Friend. She saved the world. A lot._'

"Cheesy, isn't it?"

"Yaaaah!" I jumped about five feet high and turned around to see who'd snuck up on me, half reaching for my gun before I remembered that I'd left it in the room. I swear it was a manly, um. Shout, though. Yeah, that's it. I didn't scream, I shouted. And it was _definitely_ manly.

"I tried to tell them not to, but apparently I don't get much say in my own obituary." It was Buffy, and she was grinning as she looked from me to the picture and back. Wait a minute…

"Shouldn't you be all- drugged? And resting?" It hadn't been that long, had it? Were concussion victims supposed to be running around scaring the hell out of unsuspecting time travelers? She shrugged, her eyes twinkling a little.

"I heard you got the low down on Slayers from Andrew- sorry about that, by the way, I can't believe Giles left you alone with him- so, you know about the whole healing thing? I'm already one hundred percent healed up."

"Your- obituary?" I blinked, glancing back at the picture, still trying to process what she'd said before. Something about the whole thing didn't make sense at all. Why were there two death dates when she was standing right there in front of me? She actually had the gall to laugh at the confused look on my face. I almost pouted- except that I don't pout. Pouting is for five year olds and girls, and I'm a grown man.

"Yup. The second time I died, I stayed dead long enough for them to bury me. That's what they put on my grave, and they thought it'd be funny to put it up on the Slayer wall too." My mouth moved a little, though nothing came out of it, and I tried to decide if I should be impressed, or if I should freak out. After all, in my experience, once it's buried, it's generally a bad thing if it comes back. As in, Deadite bad. But this girl, this teeny tiny little wisp of a girl, looked perfectly normal.

That's not to say that she couldn't have been trying to fool me- I'd seen too many Deadites pull the whole '_hey look, I'm normal again, come closer_' trick to think it couldn't happen, but it didn't make any sense. If she was a Deadite in disguise, how come she'd helped me out earlier when all those Deadites popped up? Or better yet, she'd had the perfect chance at me when I'd first dropped in on her, before her little friend showed up- a Deadite would've tried to get me then and there. Right? I shook my head to get rid of the confusion, though I still eyed her kind of warily. I'd just have to go with my gut feeling, for now, that she wasn't one of those damn demons, otherwise I'd never get any peace.

As I tried to figure it out in my head, she just kinda stood there, watching me with this amused look in her eyes, her arms crossed under her breasts. Which- was a bad thought, because it was pushing 'em up pretty nicely, and damn if they didn't look good, despite being a little on the small side. Not the best thoughts to be thinking about the super powered chick who would probably wipe the floor with my ass if I kept starin' at her chest. Granted, it'd only happen because I'd let her- unless she turned Deadite on me, no way was I gonna hit a girl- but still. Time to be thinking other thoughts. Like-

"Look, Geek Boy went on and on about this 'Slayer' thing," and on, and on, and on, and on, and- "and even though I tried to tune him out after the first hour, I know one thing. He was pretty clear about the whole 'one at a time' part before your friend did her magic thing. So how come your picture is up on this wall with that other Slayer's picture? Cause I'm guessing that you're not going to put up pictures of all those girls that were runnin' around here earlier. Which means you were one of the 'one at a time' ones."

"Actually," she answered, her lips twitching a little, "we have another room for all the mini-me's. Just because they weren't called one by one doesn't make them any less important- they'd just fill up the hall pretty fast if we put them out here." She paused then, moving over to the pictures, looking at hers, Faith's, and the one between them. Her smile was kinda wistful, like she was remembering something, before she seemed to shake it off. "But you're right. I was Chosen" and it was weird hearing her say that, because I could _hear_ the capital 'C' in the word, like when the old Wiseman had told me I was 'Promised,' "before the line broke. The Slayer before me died, I got called. A year or so after I was called, I drowned. My friend Xander did CPR, but apparently I'd been dead long enough to call another Slayer. That was Kendra."

There was a definite sad look on her face at that point, as she touched the frame around the dark face between hers and Faith's. I knew that feeling, although I'd tried not to. Whatever had happened to this 'Kendra,' she blamed herself. There were a lotta people I felt the same way about, and it wasn't a particularly good feeling, to tell the truth. I had the sudden urge to wipe that look away from her face, and I didn't give myself too much time to think about it before I opened my trap.

"So even though you died and someone else got turned into the Slayer, you're still all- supe'd up? Cause you held your own against those Deadites earlier pretty good."

"Yup." She was bright, cheery, and way too fake, but hey. I wasn't about to go pokin' holes in her little front. Better false cheer than guilt and angst. "Once a Slayer, always a Slayer apparently. They'd just never had one die and not stay dead before to realize it. I got the dubious honor of figuring that part out myself."

"You said you died _twice_? What happened with that? Did you get another Slayer then, too?"

"Nope. Once I passed the line on to Kendra, that was it. Faith was called when Kendra died and it was just us two till Willow did her spell." She gave a shrug then, motioning to our surroundings with her hands. "And now we're what you see here. Me 'n Faith playing Senior Slayers to all the new girls. If they want to learn, they can come here to Slayer Central, or one of the Council outposts we've got around the world. We teach them how to defend themselves, and how to not hurt people with their new found strength. From there, it's their choice whether to stay on, or to go back home. And if they never come in the first place… Well, we try to keep an eye on them, and help out if they need it."

"You spy on them." She turned, kinda tense, like she thought I was accusing her or something, but I shrugged. "Not my business. Least you don't force them into it, cause been there, done that, and baby? It sucks."

"Yeah," she answered, hesitant, eying me now like I was something to be figured out. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. She _was_ kinda hot- and that was _not_ something to be thinkin' about now, Ash. "You've heard all of my story, but we still don't know yours- other than the whole time travel thing at least."

"Yeah, so?" I gave her kind of a sideways look. I did _not_ want to do story time, but from the look in her eye, I was beginning to suspect I didn't really have a choice in the matter. Damn it.

"So, if we're going to be helping you out, I want to make sure we're not helping out the wrong side."

Wha- what? She thought _I_ was evil? Did she not _see_ the things the book dropped off on top of us earlier? I sputtered for a response, my eyes wide as I stared at her in shock, and without thinking, I jutted one finger out to poke her shoulder.

"Listen up, sister! _I'm_ not the bad guy here! I'm just the guy that got roped into fighting those damn things! I told you before, and I'll say it again! I went up to that damn cabin with my friends and got mixed up in this just because that crotchety old professor your friend was so defensive about screwed with shit better left gone. I-"

She- she was _laughing_. At _me_! Here I was poking her in the shoulder before I hooked my thumb back to indicate myself, all but _yellin'_ at her in the middle of the hall cause she called me evil, and she was _laughing_! I froze and just stared at her for a moment, completely lost.

"Whoooooa, _chill_ Ash." Her hands went up between laughs, palms to me in what I guess was surrender, and she shook her head before grinning widely. "I was just teasing. I get that you're the good guy, which is why you should make with the spillage. Good guy to good guy. Now c'mon, before our night watch girl decides we've both gone crazy. We can go hang in my suite, and you can show n tell."

On the bright side, the hot super chick was inviting me back to her rooms. On the bad side, the hot super powered chick who could probably kick my ass was inviting me back to her rooms. In a building full of other super powered girls whose first impression of me had been me knocking out their leader lady. It could either end _very_ good, or very, _very_ badly.

What can I say? No way was I passing up _that_ kind of chance.

"Well, baby, you tell me where to go, and I'll be happy to do a little '_showing_,' if ya know what I mean." Self-preservation toned down my leer a bit, but my smirk was confident as I looked down at her, realizing (not for the first time) how tiny Buffy was. She looked like I could break her in half with just the use of my good hand, not like the legendary Slayer Andrew'd gone on and on about. She also looked- amused.

"Yuh huh." She arched an eyebrow at me, when what she should'a been doing was swooning, and just shook her head. "Come on, Mr. Bad-Pick-Up-Line. We stay here much longer and we're gonna get tattled on." Her head jerked toward the desk, where the girl sitting there was watching us, one hand hovering over a phone like she was trying to decide whether or not to turn us in. It was my turn to arch an eyebrow at Buffy.

"Aren't you the head honcho here, or something like that? You can just tell her to shush, right?" I asked, because that's sure what Andrew had made it sound like. I wasn't exactly prepared for the snort she made.

"Are you kidding me? I may be one of the head Slayers, but when they think they know what's best for me? I mean, you _did_ see that stunt they pulled earlier, right?" The blonde rolled her eyes, shaking her head yet again, before she turned and started toward the hall that she'd been carried through earlier that night. I shrugged and followed.

"That kinda thing happen a lot around here?" I looked at her curiously, watching the way she moved, and it reminded me of a lion, or tiger. Predatory, though she didn't seem to realize it.

"Nah. Only when they get all mother-hennish on me. Usually it's Willow who starts it, and they just fall into line. She-" Buffy paused then, her brow furrowing, before a pout crossed her face. "Hey, this isn't me time, I thought we established that already. I want to know about _you_."

"Yeah, well, you'll just hafta wait till you get me alone in your rooms," I grinned, getting another eye roll from her. "Then you can get whatever you want out of me."

"Okay, that's just bad." She was laughing anyway, stopping to open the door that led into her room and waving me in. I flashed her a little smirk and stepped in. Well, here it went.


End file.
